


Where do we go now but nowhere?

by theasphodelmeadows



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theasphodelmeadows/pseuds/theasphodelmeadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being made butler of Downton Abbey, things seem to have taken a turn for the better for the Abbey's former underbutler. One day, however, he breaks down and Baxter realizes he hasn't recovered as well from his suicide attempt as everyone believed he had - and she is not alone. After similar realizations from Bates and Andy, she decides to invite an old friend of Thomas' to the Abbey...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My take on events post series finale, because I don't believe depressions can be cured by children with oranges. First chapter is from Baxter's perspective, then Bates', then Andy's and then Jimmy comes in. Eventual romance so the rating might go up in the future. 
> 
> I'm not a native English speaker and this is my first fanfic, so please bear with me. Feedback is much appreciated!

Everything was good now.

Yes, everything was going quite well, Miss Baxter thought. With a soft smile, she parted from Molesley and started on her way upstairs, fetching some needle and thread to repair one of Lady Mary’s less sparkling new dresses. She couldn’t help continuing her smile as she went through the familiar, dim-lit hallway. There seemed to be such peace in the house these days, as if the whole place and all its inhabitants, upstairs and downstairs, were still basking in the golden glow of the events of the final weeks of the last year. With Thomas as the new butler, things went surprisingly well. He was well-liked now, the other servants didn’t moan anymore when they had to stand up whenever he entered a room and his recent good moods even seemed to light up the others as well. She turned her head towards the door as she passed the butler’s pantry and her smile broadened, knowing Thomas was working inside. Who would have thought he would get this far! She didn’t make it much far past the butler’s pantry, however, before being startled by a tingling crash, like glass breaking.

“Mr. Barrow?” she knocked lightly on the door. When he didn’t answer after a few seconds, she opened the door without permission – Thomas and closed doors was still a sore spot in her memory. Immediately upon opening the door, her stomach dropped as she took in the scene. Scattered glass littered the floor as dark red wine stained the floor, forming a puddle eerily reminiscent of blood. There had been a murder here, but whose? Thomas was trembling from head to toe, his hands still outstretched where they had dropped the bottle, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Thomas?” He just shook his head, stifling a sob. “Thomas, what’s happened? Did you receive some bad news?” At this, he shook his head again, motioning weakly at the door as if dismissing her, despite knowing perfectly well that she wouldn’t leave him like this. Miss Baxter was frightened, terrified, to see him in this state, but she told herself she mustn’t let on. At least one of them must remain their composure. “Why don’t we sit down and you tell me what’s wrong?”, she suggested quietly, carefully, as if talking to a wild animal who might jump and kill any moment. However, this wasn’t the same care she had took before, what seemed like such a long time ago, when she kept herself low for fear of Thomas lashing out, when she still felt like she was fighting a constant battle against the very person she now cared for so much. Now, her care was one directed not to someone who might hurt her, but someone who might hurt himself if she didn’t choose her words wisely, like one speaks to a sleepwalker on a precocious edge. Slowly, shakily, Thomas sat down, still not meeting Baxter’s eyes. Instead he stared down at his hands in his lap, still trembling violently. How she wished she could reach out and tell him it was fine, whatever it was, if only the man before her wasn’t flesh and blood pretending to be marble. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Drawing a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and confessed. “I’m not happy, miss Baxter,” he paused to wipe at his eyes, “I’ve tried, I ‘ave, really, but I’m just not, an’ I thought it would be easier bein’ nicer to everyone and all, the others liking me. I thought I could change and be a better man and I thought if I made believe well enough, that I would convince myself that I felt better too but I – I just” His voice abandoning him, he hid his face behind his hands for a few seconds before taking a shuddering breath and muttering “I’m sorry about this”

Baxter didn’t know what to answer. He had seemed happier, cheerful even, and she had interpreted his change in character over the past few months to be a good sign. Thomas had always lashed out because he was unhappy – surely being kind to people meant he was feeling better? Could it be that she had missed it again, this dark monster slumbering inside him, spreading out its hideous tentacles everywhere underneath his skin, eating him up inside until all that was left was a starless night, grim and ugly?

“Thomas”, she started quietly, “what are you saying? Haven’t you felt any happier at all these past months?” To her horror, he shook his head.

“So do you..”, she furrowed her brows, not sure whether she wanted to know the answer, “do you still feel like you did back when-?”

He shrugged. "I don't feel much better, if that's what you're asking"

She didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to think about the effort it must have taken him to keep on living, if the world didn't seem any less bleak for him. "Oh, Thomas", she said, because what more could she say? "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged again. "Didn't want to bother you."

She shook her head. "Thomas, you could never be a bother to me - or to the others, for that matter", she added after a short pause. "People like you here, they appreciate you."

Thomas stifled a sob. "I _know_ that", he brought out. "But see, that's the thing, Miss. Baxter; I thought that if I were nicer, and be liked, that I'd be happier. But I'm not - I'm just - I'm just not."

He looked down and started weeping again, despite his efforts to compose himself. Distraught, he wrapped his arms around himself as if trying to hug himself. He looked so young, Baxter thought, young and scared - the boy she had once known. He seemed to unravel in front of her very eyes. Not quite knowing what to do, she got up and crossed the distance between them, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder, but he recoiled as if burned. "Please let me be, Miss Baxter. Shouldn't you be off somewhere?" She hesitated, but gave in. However much she prioritized Thomas' mental state over Lady Mary's old dresses, she couldn't explain this to the latter without giving him away, and she knew how proud he was. "You're right, I must go. But will you be alright?" He looked up, still crying, but tried for a smile "I'll be perfectly fine, as always, Ms. Baxter. Now off you go" She knew she had lost, that she wouldn't be getting through to him today, and departed. She closed the door behind her, but she could still hear him sobbing, and it broke her heart. Still, she didn't know what was worse - watching him weep like that, or seeing his stoic facade every day, knowing just how much pain he was hiding behind it.


	2. Bates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Bates, never one to mind his own business, finds out about Thomas's suicide attempt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not a lot happening in this chapter, mostly a bit of insight into how a character that hasn't been that favourable towards Thomas might view his attempt. Hope you enjoy it anyway :)

**Bates**

Something was off, and as always, Anna could tell without so much as a word. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Mr. Bates. Is something bothering you?” His wife gazed at her with soft eyes. Yes, something was troubling him, something very odd indeed. It was really none of his business, but –

“I’m sure it’s nothing, but I saw something rather odd today”, he admitted.

“Odd how?”

“This may seem strange to ask but.. have you seen Mr. Barrow’s wrists lately?” The silent, slightly guilty look his wife gave him confirmed what he had been wondering about all day.

“So it is true. Why did nobody tell me about this?”

Anna sighed “Carson didn’t want to make it a big thing, so we kept it secret and told everyone he had the flu while he was recovering. Andy and Miss Baxter found him”.

“God in heaven,” Bates replied, “the Lord knows I’ve never cared much for Thomas, but I must admit I do feel for him now. I knew there was something wrong with it, him being so cheerful all of a sudden.” He grimaced.

“You don’t think he’s pretending?” Anna asked, a slight frown worrying her face.

“I don’t know. How can we ever now what goes on behind that smug face? He might be. I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Indeed, he wasn’t known for keeping his nose out of other people’s business – then again, neither was Thomas, he thought, and at least his own intentions were good.

Anna smiled “He won’t much like your asking about it”

Mr. Bates smiled grimly. “No, I should think not. But bastard or not, I can’t allow an unhappy man to go without help”

The next day during lunch, he made a point of staring at Thomas’ wrists until the latter caught his eye with a mixture of anger and, what was that, lurking behind? Fear? Yes, it must be. Fear of having been found out, of yet another person knowing how things were, another person who could see right through him. Then again, Bates always had, hadn’t he? John held his gaze, trying to convey his good intentions. We mean no harm. We come in peace. It wasn’t until much later that day that John managed to catch Thomas on his own, smoking a cigarette at his usual spot in the courtyard. Hearing footsteps, Thomas looked up. He did not seem very surprised to see John there, apparently accepting his fate. “The answer to your question is yes, Mr. Bates”

“I haven’t even said a word yet”, John quipped.

“Your face was more than enough. I don’t need your pity, Mr. Bates. Yes, I did try to off myself. Happy now?” Thomas gave John a not easily misunderstood look of contempt.

“No, I am not happy, Thomas. Why would I be happy?” Thomas scoffed. “But why?”, John continued, “You never struck me as the depressive type”.

“Well you did strike me as a perceptive one, Mr. Bates. Just goes to show, you can’t always be right. Now if you will excuse me” Before he could get himself away from Bates and away from this conversation, away from every conversation like this that might happen in the future, Bates grabbed his arm and looked him in the eyes, scanning his face as if looking for the tiniest crack in the marble mask. Thomas felt naked, unraveled, as if every dirty little secret lay there on the ground between them, bare, exposed, a filthy, pitiful thing. “You don’t have to pretend, Thomas.” And for a split-second, John could see through the surface. For just a moment, Thomas’ eyes fractured, and John saw a frightened, broken, so, so lonely man.

“You see, Mr. Bates, I have nothing if I can’t pretend”. With a tight smile, Thomas tore himself away from John’s grip, leaving the other to his worried thoughts.

John remembered something Thomas had once said to him, what seemed like such a long time ago. How Thomas envied him and Anna, the happy couple. He couldn’t deny that he found the notion of men like Thomas…uncomfortable. But if he made an effort to get past that gut reaction of disgust, he imagined it must be hard, not being able to love who you want to love. He thought of Anna, and the many happy moments they had. It was true, neither of them had had an easy life, but troughout it all they had at least had each other these last few years. Thomas didn’t have someone like that – and if he had, he would have been forced to keep it secret, hidden, never able to show his love and be supported in it like he and Anna had been. “The happy couple, and everyone’s so pleased for you”. He had seen it as a bitter, petty remark back then, but now he realized how true it was. Yes, Thomas was a jealous cad. But Bates wasn’t sure he could blame him anymore. Someone with Thomas’ inclinations must be forced to hide his true feelings all the time in order to keep themselves safe – after the whole unfortunate situation with Jimmy all those years ago, that much was clear. “I have nothing if I can’t pretend,” Thomas had said. John realized this too was very true. Just how much of his behaviour was pretense? John thought. Maybe Thomas did have a heart after all. No, not after all, John corrected his own thoughts. The way he had risked his job for love had already showed that much years ago. Besides, he now had the scars to attest that he was at least capable of having a broken heart, of feeling a darkness tugging him under. John sighed. Wasn’t the fact that Thomas had somehow attempted to take his own life without that many people noticing a clear enough sign that something was horribly, horribly wrong? It was true he hadn’t deserved much love from his fellow servants – but to try to do himself in without anyone who saw it coming? What an awful, lonely life that must be. Thomas could have very well succeeded, and they would have received the news as a shock, for nobody had as much as noticed. Well, Miss Baxter probably had, Bates thought.

Were they to blame? Not completely, Bates thought, but there was an element of complicity. After all, had they really not noticed Carson’s relentless taunting of Thomas these past few months? Had they really not understood Thomas when he said he couldn’t see the future? He supposed none of them had wanted to understand – now who were they to judge on the morality of men like Thomas?

When John went back inside, Thomas was long gone. At the table, however, sat Miss Baxter, looking at him with that familiar sad little smile on her face. She had found him, John remembered. She was probably the person with the most insight into the troubled depths of Thomas’s soul in the entire house – what a burden to bear, to be the only one to share the darkness of someone entirely unwilling to do so. He decided to tell her that she wasn’t alone, that at least she wasn’t the only one knowing what might be underneath Thomas’ recent cheerful mask.

“Thomas isn’t as happy as he looks, is he?” he said, causing Miss Baxter to look up at him alarmed before sighing.

“No, I don’t believe he is”.

“Can we help him?”

The sound of a throat being scraped startled them both. None other than Thomas Barrow himself entered the servant’s hall, looking positively furious.


End file.
